


want what i want (and i gotta get it)

by sugarcubeshiro



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1990s, First Kiss, Goth Shiro, Jock Keith, M/M, brief use of slurs, it's nothing graphic but just to be sure!, mentions of attempted homophobic violence, mentions of bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 19:36:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18125576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarcubeshiro/pseuds/sugarcubeshiro
Summary: Keith huffs out a breath, shoving his hands into the pockets of his ripped light wash jeans and kicking at an empty can of coke next to his feet. He’s just about to turn around and leave, give up on this stupid thing he’s managed to finally talk himself into doing, when there’s the shifting of movement behind him, followed by a loudthud, like the soles of boots hitting the ground.Boots worn by someone tall and broad andheavy; as if someone with a body packed with muscles just hopped down from the bleachers to join Keith back here.





	want what i want (and i gotta get it)

**Author's Note:**

> effitsfranki posted art of goth shiro and jock keith on twitter and then everyone was talking about them, so i couldn't stop thinking about that concept, and i wrote this. it's not directly based on any of the art itself but you should go check it out if you haven't seen it because it's great!!

Keith stares out at the empty space beneath the bleachers, numerous cigarette butts littering the ground and an old armchair with some very questionable-looking stains on it placed in the far corner the only things of notice.

This is usually where one would find Takashi Shirogane, if rumors are to be believed.

Normally Keith isn’t much for listening to those, but it’s also where he has personally always seen the guy whenever Keith’s sneaked close enough to look for the black-clad figure most students turn away from if they spot him somewhere in the hallways.

But of course Shiro isn’t here today, of all days.

Of _course_.

Keith huffs out a breath, shoving his hands into the pockets of his ripped light wash jeans and kicking at an empty can of coke next to his feet. He’s just about to turn around and leave, give up on this stupid thing he’s managed to finally talk himself into doing, when there’s the shifting of movement behind him, followed by a loud _thud_ , like the soles of boots hitting the ground.

Boots worn by someone tall and broad and _heavy_ ; as if someone with a body packed with muscles just hopped down from the bleachers to join Keith back here.

Swallowing around the nervous lump forming in his throat, Keith turns around, finding himself face to face with the guy of all his – lately increasingly detailed – wet dreams for the past three months, since moving to this town.

“Well, well, well,” Shiro says slowly as he looks him up and down, clamping his palm to one of the poles making up the structure of the bleachers, swinging a little in place with his arm stretching out and a smirk on his face, like he’s about to start up a striptease. “Keith Kogane… to what _do_ I owe the pleasure?”

“You know my name?” Keith asks before he can think better of it, his voice breathless with wonder as the words leave his mouth, unable to stop himself from staring at Shiro.

Because – the guy really is a sight like no other.

The black combat boots Shiro always walks around in have studs all over in mismatched patterns, like Shiro’s put them there himself, with his purple shoelaces looped loosely through the holes. The latex pants he’s in sit tight over his thick thighs, the sight almost obscene with the way the shiny material fits on his long legs and how the black belt low on his hips brings even more focus to his perfectly trimmed waist.

Not to mention the black dress shirt he's wearing; the top buttons undone to reveal the start of his chest, but the fabric stretching over Shiro’s pecs still makes it look like it’s a strained effort for the rest of the buttons to stay put and not simply pop off too. The right arm of the shirt is tied into a knot below Shiro’s bicep where his arm ends, while the left side of it is folded up to his elbow, showing off Shiro’s tattooed forearm and the leather bands wrapped around his wrist. His nails are painted black, like always, with silver rings in different shapes and sizes sitting on each of his fingers, even his thumb.

Keith’s never seen anyone so hot in his life before.

And it’s not like he hasn’t known he’s into guys for a while now, but it wasn’t until he caught sight of Shiro that Keith really learned what it’s like to look at a man and want to get _fucked_.

“Of course I know your name,” Shiro breaks Keith out of his thoughts as he drops his hand from the pole, straightening up. He tilts his head to the side and grins wider, a piercing getting revealed under his top lip, the silver ring resting over his front teeth. Matched with the ones he has through his septum and the soft skin at the bridge of his nose, the symmetry of it all almost makes the horizontal scar Shiro has slashed across his nose, a red line reaching out towards his cheeks, look like a deliberate aesthetic choice. “Everyone knows who you are, new kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” Keith mutters, trying to ignore how his heart sinks. Of course Shiro doesn’t know who Keith is because Shiro’s actually _noticed_ him or something. “Not really all that new anymore either.”

Shiro hums, keeping his eyes trained on Keith. “Most people don’t come here, y’know. Unless it’s in droves to try to beat me up.” His lips quirk up again, voice too oddly sweet for the topic. “Which usually doesn’t end very well. For them, at least.”

…Right.

There are a _lot_ of rumors about Takashi Shirogane.

And in other people’s eyes, most of them aren’t too flattering for Shiro’s sake.

“Is it true?” Keith says.

“That they try to beat me up? Yeah. Never once has anyone succeeded, though.”

Eyes flicking to Shiro’s chest again, taking in the size of the muscles on his arm, the sharp edges of some of the rings on his fingers, Keith believes it.

But.

“That’s not what I meant,” Keith says.

“Oh?”

Shiro might try to look like he has no idea what Keith’s getting at, but Keith’s never been anything but straightforward.

“Is it true you’re into dudes?”

“Let me guess.” Shiro’s voice hardens as he starts walking closer, and Keith has to struggle with himself not to flinch away. Not because he’s scared of Shiro, but because Keith doesn’t know how his body will react to having him so close. “Your new friends on the football team put you up to this?”

“What? No, I – ”

“But tell me, Kogane, if you imagine for a moment that it _is_ true, why in the world would I be telling the school’s most popular guy about it when we’ve never even talked before?”

That’s ridiculous.

Keith’s _really_ not the most popular guy at school.

Sure, he’s gotten a free ride up enough steps of the social ladder from his dad being the football coach and Keith easily earning himself a place on the team with his skills and dedication to practice, he’d never deny that. Plus – as gross as it is, but Keith has reached a point where he begrudgingly accepts it for what it is nowadays – a lot of girls tend to find his dad really hot. Which means they want to stay on good terms with Keith, which _also_ means all the guys, who want the girls, try to stay on good terms with Keith.

And that’s even before anyone has met his mom.

It’s more of a headache than anything else to Keith personally, but at least no one’s trying to dunk his head in a toilet during breaks, and he’s even met a couple of people in this place he would tentatively consider calling his friends by now. So. Silver lining.

“I’m not that popular,” he settles for saying, instead of explaining all of that to Shiro.

“But you think you will be if you show up here and, what, get the fag to get on his knees to suck your dick or something just in time for all of your little buddies to pop up and laugh about it?”

“What?!” Keith does take a step back then, holding up his hands in front of him, because, that’s – _no_. “I would never do anything like that!”

Shiro squints his eyes at him. “Get your dick sucked by a guy or the whole prank part of it all?”

“I – ” Keith shakes his head, suddenly having no idea how words even work anymore. He can’t feel his tongue, certain his face is redder than his jersey by now, because none of this is going anything at all like he was expecting.

Shiro snorts, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, dude. Whatever you got dared into doing because all you jock losers are the same and you’re annoyingly insistent on having ‘make Shirogane’s life miserable’ as some sort of weird ritual or whatever to get accepted into your little clique, just get it over with. I don’t wanna hurt you, but I can and I will in self-defense. So why not end this already shitty day on an even worse note.”

“They – really do that to you?” Keith says, anger flaring up in his chest, making rage bleed out into his voice.

It’s not that he doesn’t know that people can be awful, but Shiro being so sure Keith would do any of the things he’s mentioned is still horrible, and he hates to think he’s even talked to anyone who would make Shiro feel like that’s to be expected.

Shiro tilts his head, staring at him for a long moment. “You… seriously didn’t know?”

“I told you,” Keith lifts his chin, “I'm not that popular. I had no idea. If anyone tried to make me do something like that I'd punch 'em myself.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing here?” Shiro says, but he sounds more bewildered than upset now.

“I told you that too already,” Keith says, glancing over his shoulder before back at Shiro again, who’s mostly looking confused, so Keith backtracks to explain, “Well, kinda. I was going to, at least. That’s why I asked you about the – … y’know. Because I don’t like to listen to rumors, but I still want to know if it’s true.”

“‘ _It_ ’?”

“The – whole ‘liking dudes’ thing.” Keith waves one hand in the air before crossing his arms, hunching in on himself and squinting his eyes at Shiro. “You didn’t actually answer me, but… I promise if it’s a ‘yes’, beating you up really wasn’t the way I was planning on trying to take you out.”

There’s a long, agonizing moment of silence stretching between them, seconds that feel more like hours passing of Shiro not saying a thing, only standing with his mouth gaping. Keith does his best not to let himself panic over whether or not he's just outed himself to someone who isn’t actually gay, and then – a wide grin spreads on Shiro’s face again.

“Oh, _Keith Kogane_ ,” he says and steps in closer, reaching out with his hand to grab Keith’s arm, his fingers encircling his wrist. “You want to _take me_ , huh?” The grip on him tightens as Shiro tugs Keith forward, Keith tripping over his own sneakers and almost face-planting into Shiro’s chest. He saves himself at the last moment, staring up into Shiro’s face with wide eyes instead, still stunned by having Shiro touching him. “You wanna drive us somewhere so you can show me the back of your car?”

“I – I don’t – ” Keith starts, his face back to burning with his blushing. He’s never had someone so good-looking so close, someone so broad and devastating and smelling so good – nothing at all like the fruity perfume of the cheerleaders he’s made out with while drunk at parties – staring down at him with so much intent before. Shiro’s still grinning, looking very much a wolf having found his dinner, and it’s the weirdest thing to wish Shiro never stops looking at him like that. “I don’t have a car. I drive a motorcycle.”

“Sexy,” Shiro murmurs, fingers sliding down to hold Keith’s hand, like suddenly this kind of casual intimacy with another guy is the absolute easiest thing in the world for Shiro as their fingers interlace. Keith blinks, startled by the realization that he had no idea before this moment that holding hands could feel so _nice_. “Might be hard to discreetly get each other off on a bike, but I’m up for a challenge.”

“I didn’t mean it like _that_ ,” Keith says, and before Shiro can get the wrong idea about having badly misread the situation, he squeezes his hand and hurries to add, “I meant – like a date. I want to take you out on a _date_. First. Then – we can see what happens.”

Shiro still drops Keith’s hand and steps away again.

“Alright, now I’m back to wondering if you just want to get us somewhere in public for some weird way to humiliate me.”

Keith tips his head back, groaning out loud in frustration.

_Seriously_.

While he can understand, and respects, Shiro’s hesitation – already wanting to know the names of everyone who has ever tried to hurt Shiro so he can personally hunt them down – Keith still wears a crop top leather jacket and blow-dries his hair after practice to make sure it perfectly frames his face; he’s never had such issues making someone believe he’s queer before.

“Shiro, listen. I totally get it if I’m not your type and you don’t actually want to – ”

“Not my _type_?” Shiro cuts him off, looking at Keith like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “You ever seen yourself, buddy?”

“I – ” Keith tries to figure out a way to respond to that, but in the end, more than anything it just adds to his frustration. “Then – what do I have to do to prove to you I mean it?”

“I don’t know, man.” Shiro shrugs. “I mean, what’s a guy supposed to think when someone who tries to say they’re into me still seem disinterested at best everytime I try to circle the conversation back to blowjobs?”

Breathing out through his nose, Keith takes two steps to close the distance between them again, putting his hands on that perfectly trimmed waist of Shiro’s before he can talk himself out of it. Then he tugs, pulling Shiro flush to his own body, and watches as Shiro’s eyes widen, the guy seeming genuinely startled for the first time since Keith showed up.

Keith slides his hands a little further back to the small of Shiro’s back, keeping their eyes locked on each other as he gets up on his tiptoes, leaning in closer to Shiro’s mouth but still pausing far away he can gauge Shiro’s reaction. Watching as Shiro swallows, his tongue comes out to wet his bottom lip while Shiro's eyes slip shut when he starts to bend down to meet Keith, and Keith uses the rush of nerves he feels through his body to help dare close the last distance between them.

Shiro’s hand lands at the back of Keith’s neck when their mouths meet, the kiss starting off soft, until Keith moves his lips against Shiro’s with more intent, parting them to show his appreciation for what’s happening. He’s never kissed another guy before, and the thrill of it all – how it’s with _Shiro_ , the bad boy goth guy everyone’s warned him from even going near – has Keith tilting his head for a better angle in time with his tongue licking teasingly at Shiro’s lips to make him open for him. There’s a hitch in Shiro’s breath, and then he hums, thoughtfully, like he’s testing if the noise will get muffled by Keith’s lips to check that this is really real, really happening; then finally, _finally_ , kissing him properly when Keith presses in harder to prove that it is.

Shiro moans and shuffles half a step forward, one thigh ending up between Keith’s own legs, almost pressing to his crotch as Shiro’s boot bumps the side of one of Keith’s sneakers. Licking deep into his mouth, Keith’s fingers curl to tighten their grip on Shiro’s clothes, skin, anything his moving palms can hold onto, when he feels the brush of Shiro’s tongue stud. Keith groans at the discovery, eagerly using every trick he knows until he has Shiro’s tongue in his mouth so he can test how different the feeling of sucking on it is with the piercing there.

They’re both heavy-lidded when their mouths part, Shiro’s eyes flicking down to where there’s a string of spit between them still connecting their lips for a moment before it breaks away and disappears.

“So,” Keith says, voice practically a whisper with how low it is. “Believe me yet?”

“…Maybe,” Shiro answers, way too casually, like he’s not affected at all, much to Keith’s annoyance.

“ _Maybe_?” he asks, can’t help his glare, but Shiro just grins down at him, blinking slow with both eyes like being effortlessly flirty is just a natural state of being to him.

“Yeah,” Shiro says, his hand playing with the hair at the nape of Keith’s neck, his thumb rubbing at the skin there. “Think you should see if you can convince me again… and try a little harder this time, baby. Really put some effort into it.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a bit of an asshole?” Keith huffs out but doesn’t let Shiro respond, instead crushing their lips together and kissing him again. Biting at Shiro’s bottom lip and playfully tugging at it with his teeth to really show him _effort_  before getting his tongue back into his mouth, Keith slides his hands down Shiro’s chest and _fuck it all_ , the guy definitely has piercings in both of his nipples too, and Keith can’t help but to rub his thumbs across them over the shirt.

Shiro breaks away, breathing heavy against Keith’s mouth, pushing into his touch for a moment as he stares at him with dark want in his eyes. Then his arm grabs Keith around the waist, whirling him around to start backing him towards the filthy armchair.

Keith lets himself be guided, doesn’t stop kissing Shiro until they reach the chair, finally pausing them in their steps. He grabs Shiro's collar as he turns their positions back around again, because Keith is  _not_ sitting down on that thing, their lips breaking apart when instead Shiro flops into the gross seat without complaints.

Trying to catch his breath, Keith stays stuck taking in the sight of Shiro sitting with his legs spread and mouth open, his chest moving from how he’s almost close to panting. Then Shiro quirks one eyebrow and lifts his hand, using two fingers to make a little _come here_ gesture before patting one of his own big thighs, letting Keith know exactly what Shiro wants him to do.

Okay.

_Okay_ , Keith thinks. He might consider sitting down on _that_  thing.

Shiro’s hand reaches out for him and Keith takes it without hesitation, letting himself get pulled into Shiro’s lap, settling on his latex pants as Shiro leans back against the chair.

“Hey,” he says, smiling up at Keith lazily, like all of this is mostly mildly amusing to him.

“Hi.”

“Comfortable?”

Keith wriggles a little, moving his ass like he’s testing his seat, trying and failing to hold back his smug expression when it gets Shiro groaning. “Mm. Very. How's the convincing going? Do I get to take you out on a date yet?”

“You’re, uh,” Shiro starts to say as his only answer to that, “really nothing at all like what I would’ve expected from some jock.”

“Maybe I’m not just ‘some jock’.”

“No,” Shiro murmurs and lifts his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Keith’s ear before his palm holds the side of his throat, the pad of his thumb stroking at the line of Keith’s jaw. It all feels oddly intimate for someone Keith still technically knows nothing about, expect for how Shiro’s an excellent kisser, has a lot of dry snark to him and a really nice lap to sit on. “You really aren’t, are you, Keith Kogane?”

Then Shiro leans in to kiss him again, Keith eagerly responding and sinking his hands into Shiro’s white bangs, twisting his fingers in the strands and moaning at the feeling of making out with someone he actually _wants_ , losing himself in it until their lips are kissed red and bruised.

Keith's forty minutes late for class when he finally makes himself leave, with two huge hickeys high enough on his neck he won’t be able to cover them up, and even more of them hidden beneath the collar of his jersey. Pressing his fingertips to the place on his throat where Shiro worked his tongue over so thoroughly, Keith's cheeks flush from the memory of a broad hand sliding down his back to squeeze his ass, and a giddy grin he can’t hold back spreads on his face.

Because in the end, Keith got both what he came to the bleachers for, and then some.

And now tomorrow night, he has a date.

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sugarcubeshiro) if you feel like it ♥


End file.
